


Crochet Hooks

by Lord_Turkish



Series: Dead Dimension Dreamers [4]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: AU, Abusive Relationships, Basically this takes place in the new universe after the session was won, Humanstuck, Humanstuckish, M/M, Ten cheers for overly convoluted AUs, The living players are the gods of the new universe and the dead players are brought in as mortals, Trolls are now human in this universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-30
Updated: 2015-01-30
Packaged: 2018-03-09 16:33:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3256790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lord_Turkish/pseuds/Lord_Turkish
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sollux had called him a masochist.</p><p>With the reliability of the tide the memory rolled into the forefront of Eridan’s mind time and time again. He heard it when he twisted his ankle hurrying down the apartment stairs in his favorite pair of heels. Tasted it in the blood that gushed from his nose when Gamzee had slammed his head against pavement in a scuffle.</p><p>He felt it in the press of Cronus’s pen when he scrawled his number onto the back of his hand.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crochet Hooks

**Author's Note:**

> Friendly reminder to look at the tags, because that's where my excuse for this show is. Also, triggers bruh.

Sollux had called him a masochist.

With the reliability of the tide the memory rolled into the forefront of Eridan’s mind time and time again. He heard it when he twisted his ankle hurrying down the apartment stairs in his favorite pair of heels. Tasted it in the blood that gushed from his nose when Gamzee had slammed his head against pavement in a scuffle. Saw it in his nails _(not claws, not claws, how am I to survive without my claws?)_ which have always been gnawed down to the quick.

He felt it in the press of Cronus’s pen when he scrawled his number onto the back of his hand.

Karkat was furious when he saw it.

_“You idiot. You bulge-choking idiot. Wash it off. Don’t you—now. Eridan. Now.”_

When Eridan attempted to push past him, Karkat snatched up his wrist and dragged him to the kitchen sink. The rough edge of the sponge left a nasty rash where the numbers had been, and Eridan broadcasted his displeasure loud and clear. Karkat wasn’t apologetic, claiming it was payment for even considering bringing Cronus under the roof everyone shared.

_“It’s bad enough he made it into the new universe—of course he’d manage to land in the same city. Gods have a real sense of humor. Looking at you, Strider.”_

Dave didn’t pull his gaze from the TV. He offered a noncommittal shrug.

_“I ain’t got nothing to do with what asshole ends up where. Not my gig.”_

Others were nearby as their miniature drama unfolded. Kanaya was sharing the couch with Dave, stitching with a focus that screamed eavesdropping. Sollux had his setup at the dining table, the usual music spilling from his headphones noticeably absent. Neither butted in, however. They knew better not to get involved this time around.

Dave, however, didn’t.

_“Didn’t know Ampora had an evil ex.”_

Eridan couldn’t contradict him. Instead he made a show of huffing out, as if Karkat was his human parent who had denied him the night out with his bad news boyfriend.

Actually, that’d be an awfully apt description of the situation.

On his way down the hall to his bedroom, he heard Dave’s follow-up.

_“So is it more or less incestuous now that they’re not trolls? Just curious of what level of fucked I’m touching on here.”_

Fucking Christ.

Eridan spends the early evening fuming. Sure, he knew what an awful idea accepting Cronus’s number was. He wasn’t even sure why he had done it. Hell, he wasn’t sure of anything that was going on in his head during the whole encounter… only that he couldn’t tear his gaze away from his now faux-dancestor’s right eye.

 

_(Violet._

_Violet violent violet snotted up through the nose and gushing from the hole of the eye socket. There’s no eye there, not anymore. Only a hook and Eridan’s knuckles. Temptation claims him as he bends down to lick a streak from Cronus’s cheek, dancestor shrieking furiously beneath him. The bastard thrashes, claws flexing in the air uselessly. His arms are safely pinned under Eridan’s knees, circulation cut off and turning the flesh of his forearms bruise dark. Lovely dark. Eridan wants to sink his teeth into it._

_But first, first…_

_He twists the hook._

_Cronus wails._

_For the first time in the deathly span of centuries, Eridan grins.)_

 

Cronus caught him staring, expression souring.

_“It’s glass.”_

So the injury did follow him.

Eridan couldn’t help but feel a sick sense of pleasure with the guilt.

But that was then. He should be thanking Karkat for what he had done, a potentially life-saving favor. Of course he won’t, Eridan’s too prideful for that. However he figures he’ll go easier on his friend from here on out.

Eridan had already stripped down to his pajama bottoms when his phone buzzed to life on his dresser. Spooked for a moment, his mind races over who it could be. Anyone who’d bother calling him were only a walk down the hall away.

_Unless._

The number’s unfamiliar. He picks up.

_“Play’n hard to get, huh?”_

His blood turns to ice.

 

_(That’s right. We exchanged numbers. I’m an idiot. I’m an idiot. I’m a fucking idiot of course he’d call if I didn’t.)_

 

_“How about we get a drink, babe. Catch up.”_

It wasn’t even a question, son of a bitch is banking that he won’t say no. Eridan absentmindedly teethes his thumb, nail long since nibbled away. “I can’t go out. They’ll know it’s you.”

A pause.

_“Sneak out, then. I can go late. Pain in the ass, but I’ll do it for you.”_

God, he can feel his skin crawl. However he finds himself checking the clock. It was nine already. He could probably slip out without much problem at around midnight, maybe a little later. “Where would we even go, Cronus. I’m not going to a fuck’n dive. I don’t feel like shelling out just to watch you waste yourself.”

_“Picky bitch. No need to shell out, I have some good whisky at my place.”_

Alarm bells.

“I don’t—”

_“You don’t what?”_

He bites down on his thumb, hard. Faintly he recalls some morbid factoid Strider rattled off months ago, about how human fingers can be lobbed off as easily as chopping the end off a carrot. Eridan yanks his thumb from his mouth. A trip to the E.R. would only make the night worse.

Or maybe not. If he’s in the E.R. he wouldn’t be as sorely tempted to say—

_“Don’t tell me you’re scared of me now.”_

“I—”

_“I’m the one wearing the scars here, not you.”_

“Cronus, I’m sorry.” Eridan blurts.

 

_(Fuck. Take that back. Take that back.)_

 

A beat of silence, and for a glorious moment Eridan thinks he’s been hung up on. Of course, he’s mistaken.

_“You owe me, you know. For what you did. What you took.”_

The lump in his throat wasn’t there a second ago. “As if you never took from me.”

_“Oh, fuck off won’t you? I do all the work of trackin’ you down to have you spit on me? You should be grateful I’m giving you a chance to come crawling back. You should be kissin’ my fuckin’ boots. I still have terrors, you know. Of your mad fuckin’ sneer. You’re damn crochet. I’m out an eye because of you.”_

Whatever retort Eridan had dries in his throat. He’s struck by the sudden urge to hurl his phone against the wall, but doesn’t. Of all the times for his self control to succeed, that was the only time it does.

After a solid minute of silence, Cronus finally tells him that he’s going to send his address via text and that he’ll expect him to arrive before one.

The call finally ends.

Eridan notices he’d been shaking. For all he knew, he could have been doing it the entire call. It would explain why it was so damn hard to keep his phone held up to his ear the entire time.

With another buzz, Cronus’s address arrives in his inbox.

When the urge to hurl his phone resurfaces, Eridan doesn’t bother to resist.  Fucker lives less than three blocks away. Easy walk. So easy. So short. Nobody will notice he’s gone.

He shouldn’t go. He should forget the call ever happened.

Yet he finds himself meandering into the shower, scrubbing up. It’s like a daze, really, how easily he falls into the routine. Out of the shower, clothes, eyes, hair. All of it wasted window dressing, really, since Cronus is going to ruin whatever he puts together the moment he’s within arms reach.

Half past twelve Eridan slips out of his room, jacket over his shoulder and heels clutched in his fist as he pads down the hall. All the lights are off. He silently wishes for a light to snap on, for someone who gave a shit to step out and stop him.

He gets half of his wish.

Eridan’s three paces from the door when suddenly light pours out from the kitchen. He squints, freezing in place. The hiss of a freshly opened beer tips him off to the source before his eyes adjust.

Refrigerator.

He turns just in time to match gazes with Sollux.

The motherfucker’s gaze is deadly even as he takes a sip, drifting down to the heels in Eridan’s hand and back up again. He’s the mirror opposite of Eridan in his ratty T-shirt and crumpled boxers. His laptop is humming in its same spot at the table, and Eridan chastises himself for not seeing its dim glow sooner.

_“So you’re actually doing this.”_

For a moment Eridan considers breaking down right there. Make a real show of how distraught he is, beg Sollux to keep him from leaving, save him from his own shitty decisions. Say that, goddamnit, they’d shared a soul and had been through hell’s bottleneck together and he just doesn’t know what to do by himself anymore and _help please help._

Instead Eridan tears his gaze away as way of answer, pushing himself out the door. Sollux doesn’t stop him. He’s not Karkat. He doesn’t coddle.

However, when Eridan stuck to the door after it closed behind him he heard glass shatter. The bottle, most likely. On purpose or accident is his guess, and he peeled away when nothing else happened.

With the reliability of the tide the memory rolled into the forefront of Eridan’s mind time and time again.

_Masochist._

_Masochist._

_Masochist._


End file.
